A quieter night for the Roxy is in full swing, which is probably more like half swing or less compared to the weekends. The stage is filled by a more-or-less local group called Freerunner, a Running Wild tribute band, and their sound is generally a bit above par for local talent, but wouldn't fill the seats on a Saturday night, when the big-name acts are in town. It's good enough for some folks to dance, however, especially if they've already been drinking and are in a partying mood.

Trixie is not one of those people. She's seated at a back corner table with a good view of the door, sipping something that smells vaguely like peppermint and brushing off an occasional lame-line-led pass. Also trying to relax, which some pass-makers are making a lot harder than it should be.

Emma had been in Denver for a bit, lots of things for her - seminars, and even speaking at some herself. She may be young, but she is experienced.

After a long day of work, and needing a break, the redhead had wondered here. But she isn't to dressed for it. Hair is put up, in a slightly messy but cute bun. She wears an off the shoulder sweater, with an image of The Beatles on it. Some skinny jeans, and a pair of converse sneakers. Not far from the doorway the lass stops and looks around.

Phelan has spent most of the day switching off security covering a very BORING redheaded doctor and her seminars. But he drew the shortstraw and gets the night shift. So hes shadowing Emma now. Into the club dressed a great deal nicer than her, slacks. Vest. Tie. Hard to tell he has a gun, which is good cuz the bouncers suck and let him in. He isn't hard to spot though, getting something from the bar while keeping Emma in line of sight.

Trixie takes a sip of her drink, just as the band finishes a slower-paced rocker, and chances to notice Emma. Watching her for a long moment, she finally recognizes her and waves from her table until Emma notices her. Shouting in here would be a waste of time, especially with the volume of the music. Especially since Freerunner has just begun a cover of 'Smoke on the Water'.

Hands slide into her back pockets, for a moment Emma watches the band. Once, this was what she wanted to do. It's still a part of her.feeding Trixie wave from the corner of her eye and looking that way, at seeing a familar face the lass smiles a touch and heads the womans way, with that typical dancers grace of hers. "L - long time no - no see." Her tone is soft.

Damn. Phelan is spotted out quick. He'll take his rum and coke, hold the rum and decide to just follow along behind the redhead to wherever she is going. He'll pat his vest lightly as he moves through the crowd to catch up with his ward.

Trixie stands as Emma approaches, gently hugging her fellow redhead and kissing her cheek. The girlish greeting was once second nature to her, but now feels almost alien after almost two years of fighting things that should be dead. "Haven't seen you in forever, Ems," she says into the girl's ear, to avoid raising her voice in the noisy club. "Have a seat?" She glances after Emma, but doesn't immediately notice her tail.

Ah. He was definitely spotted. He'll snag a drink off of some poor cocktail waitress' serving tray and brings it towards the table. His approach? Definitely like some man who thinks hes 'bout to pick up on *two* ladies at the same time. He'll arrive, and settle his purloined drink in front of Emma. "So. Not sneaky?"

"Too long," Trixie agrees, leaning closer to Emma to make talking easier. "Hope life's been nicer to you outside of Bolivar." She frowns as Phelan slides into a seat close to Emma, watching him with more than a hint of suspicion. "Friend of yours?" she asks Emma pointedly.

In turn, Emma leans in a little herself, to hear Trixie better. She offers a small shrug, and goes to reply when Phelan places a drink in front of her. That's when her face pales a little. So close, and so tempting. Still it can't be done and a delicate hand slides the drink back to him. Tempatation resisted.

Phelan...ohhs. Then swaps drink. "Heres my rum and coke, hold the rum." What a bad bad man. He'll settle into the booth right up next to Emma. The maneuvering and what not will definitely display a shoulder holster underneath that vest for those that would spot it. "I'm her security. That she doesn't like to have at night. When she needs security the msot."

Trixie would spot it, and does. "Nice to meet you. Totally," she replies to Phelan, nodding, her tone respectful, if reserved. Her gaze turns professionally measuring.

"Don't knock the security, Ems," she says, turning to Emma. "Some playacting wolf-in-suit's-clothing tried to bump me off in the Paradise Islands not five days ago. Had a Europol badge and everything. I was alone at the time. If I hadn't been alone, he might've left me alone."

There is a nod in thanks to Phelan for the switching of the drinks. And a slightly hesitant breath taken in, because ugh, security. She gets it sure, but still it's being watched.

As Trix tells her tail, eyes lift to her and widen. They move to Phelan and then back to her. "Wh - what?" With that is a small shake of her head. "A - are ya okay?" Her tone is full of concern. "Do - do'ya have tha - that badge? I - I can maybe get it - it ran."

Trixie glances at Phelan again. "On second thought... you might try sitting over /there/," she suggests, nodding at a vacant corner table twenty feet away. "The view of the door and floor are almost as good, and you aren't quite as obvious as you would be here. Just my professional advice... totally not personal."